Casper The Commuting Cat: The True Story Of The Cat Who Rode The Bus And Stole Our Hearts

I rang the vet to ask whether I could bring her in to be cremated and took her as soon as I could pull myself together. It was the last thing I could do for Bonnie; it’s the last thing I can do for all my darling cats. I’ve never buried any of them in the garden but perhaps the reason I don’t will seem silly. We move house so often that I’d feel I was deserting them – again. They would be left there alone, and the many souls we’ve shared our lives with would be without each other. I think it’s better to know in advance what I will do when the sad day of farewell arrives. Each of them is treated in the same way and I can only hope that we will meet again one day. I try to help them, and I always love them, but sometimes my heart hurts from the loss.

CHAPTER 12

A Match Made in Heaven

When I married Chris, he’d lived in the same place all his life. He must have got quite a shock when he ended up with me, because I would move every month given half the chance. Perhaps it was because I’d been uprooted as such a young child, and never really felt settled, that I never felt the pull of one location or the sense that I never wanted to leave. I’ve loved all the homes we’ve set up together, but I’m not overly sentimental about them, because I know that a loving environment can be created anywhere and it has little to do with bricks and mortar. As long as I have my cats, I’m happy.

Although the children left long ago, and I’m now a grandmother, part of me still wants to create a perfect home – only now I’d be doing it for my kitties. So it was no surprise to anyone when I announced that I was looking for another place. Another move was on the cards – this time to Plymouth. I felt like a change of scenery, as I so often did. How could Chris and I have possibly known that this would be the place where one of our cats would become internationally recognized?

Casper was moving to a place that in many ways epitomizes English spirit and history. Plymouth is a beautiful city with a heritage stretching back more than a thousand years to Saxon times. The links between the land and the sea have played a large part in its history, with the city established on moorland to the north and the English Channel to the south. Rivers run through and across it, and its name comes from the River Plym to the east.

Farming land and communities at the mouth of the Plym can be traced to the Domesday Book of 1086. One farm mentioned there – Sudtone, which means South Farm – developed into Sutton Harbour, which became the centre of medieval Plymouth. For almost eight hundred years cargo has been leaving Plymouth, which became an important, busy and wealthy place as time went on. In 1254 its town status was recognized by Royal Charter, and in 1439 Plymouth was the first town in England to be granted a Charter by Parliament.

Trade blossomed, not only with other areas of England, but also across Europe. The times were not without their troubles, however. As frequent wars with France brought attacks on the town, barriers and fortifications were built; some of these can still be seen to this day. Plymouth’s growth sprung from a combination of maritime development, trade and military importance.

Plymouth became enshrined in world history when Sir Francis Drake masterminded the defeat of the Spanish Armada and then the first ever circumnavigation of the globe from the town. Indeed, the familiar story of Drake casually playing bowls as the Armada sailed up the Channel in 1588 is said to have taken place on Plymouth Hoe. For many people, Plymouth is most celebrated for being the site from which the pilgrims who were persecuted for their religious beliefs in the early seventeenth century left for the New World on the Mayflower in the hope of finding freedom and tolerance, and established their own Plymouth community.

This remarkable history continued for centuries. I like to think that the spirit of adventure and love of travel that is so much a part of the city is what made Casper so loved. In him, the people of Plymouth recognized one of their own. He may not have been born there, he may not have lived there all his life, but he adopted the character of that fine old English city.

After much searching, we found a house we liked and moved to a place called St Budeaux, an area named after a bishop from Brittany (Saint Budoc) who founded a settlement here around 480AD. A small church was built, which was eventually dedicated to Saint Budoc. The village was taken over during the Norman Conquest. Like so much of Plymouth, St Budoc was mentioned in the Domesday Book – as a village known as Bucheside – and valued at the princely sum of thirty shillings, which was quite a lot of money in those days. Over the next few centuries, the name changed frequently before becoming St Budeaux. The area became well known in the sixteenth century when Sir Francis Drake married a local woman (Lady Drake was buried in the churchyard).